


Last Strategies

by Shae_la_Hyene



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Angst, Despair, Integrity, Missing Scene, Resolution, Sass, it's still Laurent, no crying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2020-04-07 23:55:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19095556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shae_la_Hyene/pseuds/Shae_la_Hyene
Summary: So...I read Best-Laid Plans by the awesome allierrachelle and I loved it. I love me some insight in desperate times, and I love me some insights of Laurent's mind. So of course I adored the fic.But it left me... thirsty for more. So I wrote more.Still during the time after the Kingsmeet and before the actual trial.





	Last Strategies

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Best-Laid Plans](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17628095) by [allierrachelle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/allierrachelle/pseuds/allierrachelle). 



> Here it is. The first proof that I am a dangerous, frustrated psychopath of a stalker and that half my works will be "finishing" other people works, mostly because I wanted more and writing it was the only way to get more. I'm writing fanfiction of fanfiction. That's ok, I scare myself too sometimes.

He really would have. 

But, even as he was probably going to his death, he knew it had been worth it.  
His life had been worth living.  
Even with all the grief, and the pain, and the abuse. Even with the fear and the inevitability, even during those years fighting a war he couldn’t win.  
It had been worth for his mother’s stories.  
It had been worth it, for Auguste’s laugh, when they were just the two of them. Worth it for their riding days, and the exhilarating races. And everything else.  
It had been worth for the respect in his men’s eyes. For seeing them try hard, harder everyday, and improve beyond imagination, and knowing it was a bit because of him. For all of those days they end up exhausted, all of them, rewarding in the end. 

And it had been worth it for Damen’s kisses.  
Of course it had been.  
For their shared laugh in that Vaskian tent, when Laurent was so sure he couldn’t laugh truthfully ever again.  
Worth it for his soft caresses that Laurent never deserved. For discovering together the meaning of forgiveness. For learning he could fall in love.  
Worth it for the knowledge that Damen was safe now, and that he would become the great king he was always meant to be. Greater than Laurent could have ever become. It was for the best, and he couldn’t find in himself to regret it.  
He pushed away the little voice saying it was unfair that he lost him when he was finally admitting he was in love with him. Life was unfair. It would have been childish to have expected anything else.  
Laurent hasn’t been a child in so long. He thought, for a second, maybe he could allow himself to think, to believe like one, just for a little while. What was there to lose, anymore ?  
But no. He couldn’t start thinking like that. He would not yield and bend for the Council. If they were to execute him, he wouldn’t let them have anything else.  
Not his pride, not his control. They wouldn’t make him beg, they wouldn’t make him admit what has never been true. They could insult him, and they probably would, they wouldn’t make him react.  
They wouldn’t have this honor Damen saw in him.  
He would have regrets, of course. Everybody has regrets when they’re about to die.  
He regretted letting his uncle do all of those terrible things. To him first. And he regretted not fighting hard enough for the other boys. Not enough to stop it, and save them. He regretted letting hate consume all of those years of his life.  
He regretted flaying Damen, and hurting him over and over.  
He regretted not seeing the truth in Aimeric. He regretted not holding up to his promises to Nicaise, and leading him to his death.  
He regretted to not have enjoyed his childhood with his brother more, not understanding how fragile it really was until it was broken.  
He regretted not anticipating his uncle’s attempts and letting him kill Auguste’s horse.  
But the Council didn’t know about those, and they didn’t care. They wouldn’t attack him on them.  
They would attack him on trying to escape border duty. On not surrendering before them at Ravenel. Of allying with Akielos, the everlasting enemy. Of… what was it ? Paying clan riders to tell a story ? Yeah, that.  
They would attack him on sleeping with his brother’s killer.  
But what could they know about it ? If he, of all, found in himself to forgive him and let go of that stupid nickname to see how good a man he is, then how could they pretend having a right to hold grudges against Damen ?  
They would attack him on what he could never regret, and he knew how it was called.  
Integrity.  
And it was because of it, that his life had been worth it.

 

 

The sordid dungeon cell they throw him in told a lot about what was left of his status. As did the expression and lack of respect of the soldiers. It made him want to smile.  
His men would have killed those for looking at him this way.  
Bare stone, a pile of rotting hay in a corner, and wet from not just water, it was a lovely place to spend a last night. But he knew he wouldn’t stay long. Just enough to gather the Council and court. And all of those who traveled all the way from Arles.  
Some of his allies, perhaps. But most of them were clever enough to know they should keep their mouths closed, today.  
He realized that physical distance from his uncle had gave him an illusion of freedom, a feeling of fullness, and that a huge part of him revolted at the idea of getting near him again. He shivered at the memory of his hand on him at the Kingsmeet.  
If he was to fight for only one thing today, it was this : he wouldn’t let himself be touched by that man ever again.  
He laughed bitterly at the pathetic excuse of an armor this dirty sheet he was wearing was. Nothing was protecting him, anymore. He was stripped from everything, yet he has never felt more like himself. More proud of his choices, of his actions, of what he won.  
Even if they stripped him from this dirty sheet, he would stand straight, chin high.  
As time passed, he saw the last rays of sunshine pass by the hole in the stones that could be called a window. He wondered if it was the last sunset he would see. Probably. It was a bit sad to only see a few rays from it.  
He sighed.  
He was waiting for a bunch of fat, self absorbed, excess drenched, disgusting old men to decide it was time for them to get their arses up and go for the trial made to disown and execute their prince. He understood Akielons’ disdain for the Veretians' court. It was hard to be proud of being veretian, especially in moments like this one.  
Oddly, he knew it was this anger and scorn that would keep him upright, for however long they’d keep him in this joke of a trial.  
The bounds on his wrists hadn’t been removed from the cell. They had been there for hours now. Far too long to his body’s tastes. And he already knew they wouldn’t be removed in the trial room. Another way for his uncle to distort everyone’s perception of him, stripping him from his birthright and making him look like a criminal.  
If only it didn’t work. But Arles’ most powerful men and women were all manipulated so easily by looks. That too, he had to learn early.  
For one last time, maybe, he wondered what Auguste would have thought of him. His brother wouldn’t have let any of that happen, he wouldn’t have let anyone doubt his birthright, his title. He wouldn’t have let the situation getting bad enough to end up… there.  
Maybe he would have forgave him, for Damen. Maybe not.  
And maybe he would know this soon enough now. Life after death was a fairytale. But he found himself wishing to see Auguste one last time.  
And maybe, if he waits long enough, he’ll see Damen too, at the end of a long, happy life, as a good, kind King, with so much stories to tell him. With his children. And this nephew, somewhere.  
The cell opened finally, letting him see three boars dressed like soldiers.  
He pushed himself from the wall to greet them. But the image of an old Damen smiling at him stayed.

He would love that, too.


End file.
